Documenting a Beautiful Life

I found and fell for Chris Boger during a hard time in my own life.  I was 43 years old and trying to figure out how to escape a bad marriage.  I was lost, angry, confused, and ashamed, working long hours at contract janitorial work to pay for a family of four.  My wife and I had not gotten along well for several years, and I did not know what to do.  I started having chest pains and went in to see my doctor. She told me that she did not know why I was having chest pain, but that it likely meant that my stress level was too high.  "Figure out what is causing you so much stress, and get away from it.  If you don't, you are probably going to die.  This is NOT good."

Strong words.  Feeling trapped, I enrolled in an introductory ceramics course (FINA 260, Intro to Ceramics) at Indiana University in the summer of 2005 just as a way to get away from a toxic partner and do something creative with my hands. This was a life-changing decision.  My instructor was Malcolm Mobutu Smith, who was to become one of my closest personal friends.  I learned to hand-build basic things, make coil pots, carve and decorate clay, and ultimately to throw on the potter's wheel.  I sat shoulder-to-shoulder with a young ceramics student named Matt Fiske, who was just beginning his journey in ceramics.  We learned to wood-fire, and to salt fire, and to raku fire.  I did not know it at the time, but the peace and beauty that were coming into my life began in those days.

There were others in that class, too, who became friends and with whom I have stayed in touch.  That summer held many pleasant evenings in the studio, listening to Brian Eno with a young woman named Lauren and just making things with clay.  I reached a point where I could confidently create a cup or bowl to suit myself, and began to study glazes a bit.  I was happy in there for the first time in a long while.  I began to feel as if I was not dying.

One day as I walked toward the studio in Fine Arts, I turned a corner to find a lovely woman bent over at the waist, rifling through a box full of books.  "Well, hi there!" I recall saying cheerfully, and Chris stood up and looked me in the eye for the first time.  She gave me a bright, beautiful smile and stuck out her hand.  I asked who she was, introduced myself, and told her how much I was enjoying taking the intro ceramics class from Malcolm.  We chatted only for a second, and she explained she was moving from the small studio across the hall into the bigger one right behind me.  My memory of that moment is strong.  I felt like someone shined a light in my eyes and punched me square in the gut.  As naive as it sounds now, I did not realize I had fallen in love at first sight.

Weeks passed, and whenever I saw Chris I would say hi and ask how she was.  She showed me her studio and her work, and talk about sundry things.  That fall I took an intro course, "Intro to Informatics", from a professor named Mehmet Dalkalich, who had us listening to a Thomas Friedman book on CD, "The World is Flat".  I was filled with wonder in those days, as I had decided to work myself out of my terrible marriage by re-training and finishing my undergrad degree.  I did not really have a plan to leave, since I had 4 children, but at least I thought if I could improve my work situation, I'd be better able to figure out what to do.

The fall of 2005 and spring of 2006 were spent taking more classes, doing my contract work on the side, and - usually daily - stopping in to chat with Chris.  As smitten as I was, I did not know how to go past a professional relationship, and in any case my wife and I still had not filed for divorce.  I did not want to do anything to frighten away this marvelous woman who gave so freely of her time and attention.  Silly me, I did not realize that she had me figured out - thoroughly - from about the third visit.  I thought I was stuck being just a friend, and we had had many hypothetical discussions - about feminism, control, the concepts of marriage, careers, nearly every subject one might imagine. She had, however, never married, and in fact had not been in a serious relationship for some time.  She told me she had pretty much given up.  Chris at that time was 46 or 47 years old.

In the summer of 2006, we had fallen into a pattern where I would stop in and compare the day, chatting happily over coffee in the Fine Arts café or sometimes walking over to grab a nibble or a coke at the Union.  One day, she mentioned she was going away for the summer to teach at an "art thing".  I remember being excited for her.  Chris always said, this is a resumé line, and resumé lines are expensive.  This time, she told me, I actually get paid.  It's a good gig.

It was during the summer of 2006 that I admitted to myself that I was in love with Chris. I had known all along, but was unable to admit it.  Kids? A marriage? Good grief, not an acceptable situation!  But I had known for a couple years that my current marriage was not going to last.  With Chris away teaching, the summer dragged hard.  I ached just to talk to her, to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to tell her jokes and listen to her stories.

When she came back in the fall, I determined to figure out how to get away from the bad situation I was in, and give myself a chance to be with this beautiful, charming woman.  This blog is an effort to document the time I had with her, to expand it to include the things I learned about her, and her friends and family; to show the pictures I have of her life both before and during the time I met her; and to try to also mix in the images of her work and talents as a ceramic sculptor.   Too, I will document how her struggles with depression changed over time, and how we fought that terrible disease together until one day she was unable to hold on any longer.  When I can write the words, I will tell the story of how I failed her in her darkest hour of need.

My heart is broken, as are the hearts of her many friends, colleagues, and family.  Telling her story will at least let me share with them what Chris often told me were the happiest days of her life - the days she chose to spend with me.

Despair and Rainbows

Today, July 4, 2018, was unusually quiet because most folks are celebrating the holiday.  Malcolm graciously invited me to attend the morning parade, so I went with him, LuAnne, and Owyn.  It was fun, and I managed to figure out how to use the video feature in time to capture Beanpole as his "worshippers" walked past. Beanpole is the god of pointless behavior.  This year's float was a single door up on a ten foot pole.  Sometimes they opened the door.  Sometimes they closed it.

I tried working at the farm, but the oppressive heat was so bad that I nearly fainted trying to hook up a transfer pump in order to do the plumbing at the well sump.

Back home to the condo to cool off.  Took a nap, fiddled around awhile, and became more and more despondent as the hours passed.  Finally, missing Christy very badly, I decided to take a drive.

Drove around town aimlessly awhile, ending up over by Rogers and Howe.  That's Sara and James' apartment, but she's in Long Beach right now.  I stopped down the street to call; left Sara a message about the amazing weather - clear blue sky all around with one intense rain cloud directly overhead.  The sun was shining beautifully during an intense downpour and I wanted her to see it.  I had forgotten she was in California.  For a while I sat and watched the rain.

The rain made the pain worse, as Christy and I always loved a good storm.  More memories flooded back, and I just started driving again, feeling what I can only describe as a rising panic.  I recall saying out loud "I don't know where to go".

As I turned onto 2nd street headed east, in front of me I saw the strongest, most beautiful and complete rainbow I have ever seen.  I heard her voice - the one she used so often to calm me when I was agitated.  "Just go home, Lovey".   Think what you will, but I was stunned by how pretty and how sudden the rainbow appeared, and how clearly I heard her speak.  I have no doubt that my beloved made sure I looked up at just the right moment.  The rainbow as I drove toward it was guiding me back to the condo.  Since that moment I have been at peace, and no longer feel the despair and panic I felt before.

Writing this down so I don't forget it.

Christyl Ann Boger - A Eulogy from her Beloved Husband

Christyl Ann Boger left us suddenly on Father's Day, June 17, 2018.

(this was read aloud at her memorial service the following Sunday, June 24, 2018)

 

Thank you for coming today.  Chris was the light of my life, and I am sorry but I have no voice today. But there is something that I want you to know.

   

Watch out for the words “If I had only …”  

“If I had only” called her a little more often, or written, or visited, or shot her a text or an email, or dropped by the studio, or hugged her, or just “if I had only” been there….  Please be quiet in your heart for a moment, and listen very carefully.  Trust me.  Each time you catch yourself thinking “If I had only…” remember this.  You did.  You did, daily.  

 

I was the most intimate partner Chris ever had. She confessed this to me often:  You helped Chris, countless, countless times.  She loved and cherished each of you deeply.  You never failed her; in fact, you kept her going.  If she were here, she would hug you and look at you with those beautiful grey-blue eyes and tell you the same thing.  You know I am right.  She would.  Why? Because Chris’ memories of the fun times you had together were what truly carried her along.  Christy’s battle was hard.  Every day, I raced home from work to hold her close so she could tell me what was present in her heart that day.  Countless times, her stories were stories of you.

Depression is a lot like walking on ice.  We stand close, and take each other’s elbow, step as carefully as we know how, and still suddenly - without warning and in spite of our best efforts - we might fall anyway.  It is not anyone’s fault that Chris is gone.  She slipped on that ice and it took her from us, that is all.

She told me something else once which will help you:  When someone you love is gone and you feel despair or guilt, just ask yourself this question.  If they were here, and you told them you were so, so sorry, what would they say?  You know how Chris would have answered you. 

Thank each precious one of you for helping keep her with us for all these years.  

-- John Burgoon, adoring husband